


Silence Is Golden

by MikeWritesThings (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: #2sassy4u, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Humor, Autism, Cello, Character Death, Concerts, Depression, Everyone Needs A Hug, Half the characters here are sassy shits, Humor, M/M, Minor RusAme, Muteness, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, They just really need a hug, mute character, seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikolaj Petrov is a grade A model student at one of the largest high schools in America, holding a number of foreign students in the U.S. He's top in nearly every class, extremely intelligent, and his record is so vanilla it makes vanilla look spicy.</p><p>Vladimir Popescu, also known as Vlad, is a selective mute. He hasn't spoken a single word in three years.</p><p>He's a new student at the high school, and who do they assign to show him around? Of course, none other than one of the school's top students, class president, Nikolaj.</p><p>Vlad is a mysterious new guy that just might actually be interesting to Nikolaj if he wasn't so interested in his cello and applying for colleges. But once Vlad latches onto him like glue, Nikolaj sets aside his time for something he hasn't had the time for in years-a friend.</p><p>Why is Vlad a mute? Why did he stop speaking three years ago? Nikolaj wants to know and it's going to take a lot to find out-and, on top of that, he has to deal with the horror known as high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Kid

The bow glided across the strings. Music swelled, washing the room in a haze of noise. Nikolaj Petrov allowed himself to become immersed in the sound as it rang throughout, and the violists joined in soon after. The composition was an original one written by their orchestra teacher himself.

The teacher-Mr. Smalls-was quite impressed with Nikolaj's performance. He was one of the only cello players on his level and he had to be one of the best cellists he's seen in years. The kid seemed to be a natural at everything-A clean record, a GPA of 4.0, a natural cello player, and, of course, running the student council smoothly as he did, being the school president.

The bell rang, interrupting the flow of music, but the teacher told them to keep playing just a bit longer. Reach a certain checkpoint in the song. As soon as they did, bows were dropped carelessly to the floor and bags slung over shoulders, eager to make it out the door first and be home-free. Nikolaj was among the few who carefully put away his instrument and was last out the door.

The student body was a massive throng of teenagers pushing to get home, shouts in the hallways and students thrusting forward to race away. Nikolaj didn’t run, didn’t shout, but just stopped and waited when he saw a fellow member of student council, Eduard von Bock, racing towards him, looking at him with determination, fighting the crowd.

“Nikolaj! Nikolaj!”

He skid to a halt near the Bulgarian student before smiling at him, brushing his blond locks out of his eyes.

“ _Tere_ , Nikolaj,” Eduard panted, adjusting the glasses on his face.

“ _Здравейте_ ,” Nikolaj greeted the blond, looking down at him expectantly, awaiting something. They didn't normally talk to one another, and when they did, it was usually about something of importance.

“Mr. Beilschmidt has a job for you!” Eduard said, smiling at the dark-haired teen, who only blinked at him in response for a moment.

Mr. Beilschmidt was the school’s principal, a buff guy with long blond hair and a battle-like attitude. His sons attended the school-Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt, both with some of the highest grades in the school-and a reputation of not being ones to mess with. It was also rumored that Mr. Beilschmidt had an affair with Mr. Vargas.

That just proved how ridiculous high school rumors could get.

“What’s the job?” Nikolaj asked, cocking his head to the side in curiosity after mulling over the sentence a bit. Eduard gave a few waves of his hand, trying to find the right words before saying,

“There’s a new student coming to school tomorrow.”

“And he wants me to show him around?” Nikolaj asked, raising an eyebrow. Why couldn’t Mr. Beilschmidt give that job to someone who was actually willing to, who signed up in the Student Connections club for just that reason? Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Vargas’s grandson, for example. Why not him?

“Well, this guy, he’s like…” Eduard struggled for the word before saying, “Mute. He doesn’t talk. So Mr. Beilschmidt is assigning you to be like a translator for him, since he uses sign language and like, nobody else in those school does except you.”

“Oh,” Nikolaj said, frowning slightly, not really comfortable with this, “Okay then. What’s his name?”

“Vladimir Popescu.” Eduard answered brightly.

“Romanian?” Nikolaj asked, guessing by the name. Eduard shrugged before adding,

“By the way, since you’re one of the only students that can use sign language, Vlad’s going to have a schedule just like yours, and he’s going to be placed in classes he doesn’t have with you with someone else who uses sign language as well.”

“Okay,” Nikolaj shrugged, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. Sharing several periods a day with someone just to be their translator wasn’t very much an idea he was keen to, but if the guy needed to get around, someone had to know what he was saying.

“Oh, great!” Eduard beamed, looking ecstatic, “I’ll tell him you said yes! _Aitäh_ , Nikolaj!”

Nikolaj nodded in response and headed home, feeling a bit weary. He hoped this new student wasn’t annoying, but how could he be if he couldn’t even talk? Well, he could always be running off and all over the place, but that’s a maybe.

Nikolaj's house loomed at the end of a nearby street, a recent paint job making it look a bit newer than it actually was. The steps creaked when he walked up them to his front door.

The dark-haired teen dropped his backpack on the floor near the opening of his house once he got inside, before stepping into the kitchen where his mother was.

A word about miss Milena Petrov, Nikolaj’s mother.

She was probably the best person in the world. Dark hair like his, shining blue eyes and a smile on her face almost all the time, no matter how tired and weary she looked. There were already aging lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and she walked a little slow, but Nikolaj loved his mother more than anybody else in this world. She would laugh and tell jokes and she cooked like nobody's business.  She had been the one to buy Nikolaj his own cello when he was nine.

“How was school?” Milena asked, looking up from her book. The coffee cup beside her looked untouched, and cold. Nikolaj gave a smile before saying,

“We learned a new composition in orchestra today.”

His mother reached a hand out, and Nikolaj took it. She rubbed her thumb in a small circle on the back of his hand for a while, before asking,

“Will you play it for me tomorrow?”

Nikolaj paused, thinking about it for a moment, before saying,

“Actually, Ma, I’ve got to show around a new kid tomorrow. Eduard says he’s mute, so like...I got to be there to translate sign language. But maybe on Saturday. Okay?”  
Milena nodded in understanding, the same soft smile reaching her eyes, before her expression turned slightly serious.

“How is Eduard? Is he doing okay at home?”

“Yes, Ma,” Nikolaj nodded, though in reality, he wasn’t so sure. Even if something was wrong at Eduard’s house, the Estonian wouldn’t tell him. Nikolaj has known Eduard for seven years, and it wasn’t until last year did Nikolaj discover the truth about Eduard’s home life.

It wasn’t a desirable one.

Milena pursed her lips slightly, unsure whether or not to truly believe that Eduard was doing fine, but simply ran her fingers through her son’s hair and gave him another hug before telling him to go do his homework.

…………………………………………………………………..

“Bye, Ma!” Nikolaj called, a piece of toast in his mouth, waving to his mother who was once again sitting at the kitchen table, this time with a cup of tea and her laptop.

“ _обичам те,_ ” She called, smiling lightly. Nikolaj closed the door behind him and began lugging his cello and bag to school, which was only a five minute walk from his house, conveniently. His mind wandered to the new student he’d be showing around-Vladimir Popescu, right? He gave a small sigh, knowing this day would be a tiring one with him having to translate the boy’s sign language the whole time.

Upon arriving at school, he was greeted by a familiar face.

“Ciao, Nikolaj!” Feliciano Vargas, Mr. Vargas’s grandson, called, waving his hand enthusiastically, “I heard from Eduard that-a you’re a-showing a new kid around! Can I say hi to him? Is it it really a-true he can’t talk and stuff? I wonder if he likes-a pasta? Of course he likes pasta because everybody likes-a pasta, and-”

“Da, you can say hello to him,” Nikolaj cut him off with a soft sigh. Feliciano was a fellow cellist with him in his Advanced Orchestra class, and while he wasn’t so bad, he was very loud and very, very talkative. Feliciano bounced happily at the thought of meeting the new student, a wide smile on his face. Beside him was his brother, Lovino, who had darker skin and hair. Lovino was generally a grumpy person that often launched into pissy rants that amused everybody to no end.

Once inside the school, Nikolaj headed to the front office, hoping the new student would be residing there, Feliciano sticking close to him and chattering brightly about something-or-other. Inside the office was the secretary flipping through several pages of papers, while a few students milled around, probably asking for a schedule change or something. Nikolaj made his way to the desk and asked,

“Hi, I’m here to show a new student around? Do you know where he is?”

“The mute one?” The secretary asked distractedly, searching for something, strands of hair falling into her face, “Yeah, he’s with the principal right now, he’ll be out in a minute.”

Nikolaj gave a sigh and sat down in a chair near the door, Feliciano still talking about what he thought of the vice-president of the student council, Ludwig Beilschmidt-the aforementioned son of Mr. Beilschmidt.

“His muscles look a-big and hard and he has-a really pretty eyes and-”

“Nikolaj Petrov?” The principal’s voice said, and Nikolaj got to his feet, and thankfully, Feliciano silenced himself. Mr. Beilschmidt was standing next to a teen and a woman, both shorter than the towering man. The teen had strawberry colored hair and a pair of red eyes that looked a bit pink as well, and his skin was a bit on the pale side. Nikolaj vaguely wondered if he was albino. The woman had ginger hair and brown eyes, and was much shorter than both Nikolaj and the teen, though she was smiling brightly and seemed chipper.

“Nice meeting you!” She told the principal before giving the teen a quick hug and telling him something. She left quickly, the teen only waving silently to her.

Nikolaj approached the teen slowly, aware that he was about two inches taller than him, though of the same build. He was dressed in the academy’s standard uniform, though it was a bit loose on him, and he seemed nervous.

“Your name is Vladimir, right?” Nikolaj asked, crossing his arms as the teen adjusted his backpack.

 _‘You can call me Vlad,’_ the teen signed with his hand, adjusting his book bag slightly. He suddenly seemed a bit less nervous when he saw Feliciano jumping excitedly next to Nikolaj.

“Oh, what did he a-just say?” Feliciano asked, peering up at Vlad, eyes wide, “Wow, you a-look really funny, you really remind-a me of my friend Gilbert, he-”

“Ignore him,” Nikolaj cut the Italian off awkwardly, not wanting the new student to be overwhelmed by him and feel the need to reply, “He just said we can call him Vlad.”

“Oh, a-really? You can-a come sit with me and my friends at lunch, okay? We like-a new people,” Feliciano paused, “Well, mi fratello doesn’t, but I a-do! He probably won’t a-kill you today!”

 _‘You’re funny,’_ Vlad signed, looking faintly amused. Feliciano turned his head to Nikolaj expectantly.

“What did he sa-”

“He said you’re funny.” Nikolaj answered, already frustrated with the new task at hand-being this boy's translator.

“Oh, grazie Vlad, I-”

“Get to class,” Mr. Beilschmidt sighed from the doorway, and Nikolaj realized they had a minute before the bell rang. He couldn’t be late-it would tarnish his perfect record!

“What class do you have first?” Nikolaj asked Vlad, but Mr. Beilschmidt was already handing a copy of Vlad’s schedule to him. Nikolaj glanced over it-he shared many classes with the new student-before nodding and saying,

“Right, history with Ms. Karpusi...I have that class too. Follow me.”

The two barely made it on time, Feliciano bidding them goodbye about halfway there. Vlad had kept silent (well, of course he had, he was a mute, Nikolaj reminded himself) and the teacher seemed mildly surprised when Vlad answered her question of what his name was in sign language-the teachers must not have been alerted of Vlad-before she answered back in awkward sign language. She obviously did not know a lot of it.

 _‘I’m mute, not deaf,’_ Vlad signed back towards her. The corner of Ms. Karpusi’s mouth twitched slightly before she assigned Vlad the seat next to Nikolaj, which had thankfully, been empty all year, as the class was small.

The class period went on pretty normally, Nikolaj having to be Vlad’s translator the entire time, and when the bell rang Nikolaj led Vlad through the halls to their next class together.

“Nikolaj!” A familiar voice shouted from behind them, and the dark-haired teen turned to face Eduard, who was smiling at him.

“Good morning!” Eduard said brightly, “Is this the….Uh….New student?”

 _‘I come from planet Mars,’_ Vlad signed, the corner of his mouth twitching at his attempted joke. Nikolaj rolled his eyes before saying,

“Yes, he’s the new guy.”

“He’s taller than I…” Eduard struggled to think of the word for a moment, brows furrowing, “Imagined. Yeah, imagined.”

“You okay?” Nikolaj asked, glancing at the dark circles under Eduard's eyes, “You don’t look very good.”

“I’m fine, Nikolaj. I spent the night at Raivis’s last night with Toris and Feliks.” Eduard responded, shifting on his feet.

 _‘Without me?’_ Vlad signed flamboyantly.

“Er, what’s he saying?”

“Nothing important,” Nikolaj grunted with a roll of his eyes, “C’mon, newb, we got to get to our next class. Bye, Eduard.”

“Bye, Nikolaj!”

Nikolaj took Vlad’s upper arm and led him through the bustling halls until they were outside their geometry classroom.

“Stop trying to be funny, nobody understands it because they can’t speak sign language anyways,” Nikolaj told Vlad, who gave a pout and signed, _‘You’re no fun.’_

“I am the killjoy of this school,” Nikolaj sniffed, only getting angrier when Vlad smiled, “Get used to it.”

The classroom burst into questions about why Vlad was a mute as soon as the teacher introduced him, but Vlad didn’t reply to any of their questions. Even if he did, they wouldn’t understand him, anyways. Nikolaj huffed with annoyance every time Vlad tried to tell him something funny, trying to do his work with the strawberry-blond talking-er, signing-to him.

Nikolaj did wonder why Vlad was a mute, like everybody else. But he didn’t ask, because it was none of his business. And frankly, it probably wouldn't even matter if he was told why. Maybe he was just born that way?

After class, was P.E. Vlad seemed like a fairly lazy type, and to be honest, Nikolaj didn’t really like P.E. or put as much effort into it as he should. He expected that Vlad would probably lag behind with him.

Thankfully, P.E. didn’t require much talking or translating as the coach made them all run laps. Dressed in the academy’s ridiculous uniform of a white shirt and short blue shorts-so short they were just a few inches away from being classified as booty shorts-Nikolaj lagged a bit behind the hardcore gym kids as usual, keeping his pace slow as to not wear out his legs. Vlad, to his surprise, was one of the kids at the front keeping ahead. However, after the third lap, he slowed down to jog next to Nikolaj, managing to sign easily to him despite running.

_‘Was that guy with glasses your friend?’_

“No, not really, he just talks to me a lot,” Nikolaj huffed, due to it being about ten times harder for him to talk and run at the same time. Vlad didn’t ‘say’ anything for a moment before signing,

_‘He’s short.’_

“No, you’re just tall,” Nikolaj said as they passed into their fourth lap, the coach shouting hoarsely at the kids in the very back, who were still somewhere around halfway through their second lap.

 _‘No, you’re just short.’_ Vlad seemed to giggle silently.

“Shut up.”

 _‘How? I’m not actually speaking’,_ Vlad was smirking now, and Nikolaj was growing more and more irritated by the second. Couldn't he run in peace?

“Stop signing, then.”

_‘As you wish, Your Highness'_

“Don’t call me that.” Nijolaj snapped.

Vlad’s shoulders shook in silent laughter as he pulled ahead of Nikolaj, catching up with the kids in the very front. Nikolaj could tell this would be a very long day.

 


	2. Long Day

By the time lunch rolled around, Nikolaj was already sick and tired of babysitting Vlad like the two year old he was.

As soon as the bell had rung, the Romanian had bolted off in the complete opposite direction of the lunch room, looking excited, and Nikolaj had to literally drag him in the right direction by the collar of his shirt, much to the strawberry blond's protest.

The lunch room looked crowded and busy, students looking for places to sit or waiting in line for a shitty school lunch. The horrible smell of meatloaf surprise wafted towards him and burned his nostrils. Ew.

Nikolaj scanned the crowd, looking for the emptiest table available, bagged lunch in hand, but suddenly he felt Vlad being pulled away from him and turned just in time to see Feliciano grabbing the Romanian's hand and dragging him to his table, looking absolutely ecstatic.

"Hey!" Nikolaj exclaimed, but Vlad did not protest at all as Feliciano sat him down across from Lovino, and the happy Italian plopped down next to him, looking like he was ready to burst into happiness. At once, the Italian began talking, either know Vlad couldn't talk back.

Feliciano's table always seemed to seat the same eleven people-Feliciano, Lovino, Ludwig, Kiku, Gilbert, Bella, Lars, Alfred, Matthew, Francis, and Antonio. Vlad took up one of the remaining two seats, and motioned to Nikolaj happily to sit next to him, eyes wide and a childish grin on his face. N

Nikolaj rolled his eyes in disgust and gave a slight huff. It wasn't that he really had a problem with Feliciano-in fact, he liked the Italian's positive attitude (most of the time.) It was just that Nikolaj was not a people person. At all. He wouldn't even be in the lunch room right now, if he had the choice-probably in the library studying or in the orchestra room playing-well away from people, and socializing.

Anywhere but here, surrounded by talking and shouting teenagers.

"Come on!" Feliciano called, smiling happily at Nikolaj, pointing to the last remaining seat, "We a-have room for one a-more and we love the company!"

Nikolaj looked left and right, desperate for an escape, but Feliciano had already grabbed his hand and dragged him to sit next to Vlad. Nikolaj had no choice but to be dragged along-the Italian was a lot stronger than he looked.

 _'You do not look very happy. Do you need a hug?'_ Vlad motioned, smirking slightly.

"If you touch me, I will fucking end you," Nikolaj threatened the Romanian, voice dripping with venom. Vlad's shoulders shook in silent laughter.

The people at the table seemed to either be stoic and scary or bouncy and happy and  _loud_. Lars Anderssen, who was sitting across from Nikolaj, had a reputation because he was caught selling weed two years ago in the school parking lot. Rumor has it that he still did, and Nikolaj did not want to find out.

His sister, Bella, seemed very enthusiastic about, well, everything, and was happily eating about five waffles at once. Lovino, at her side, was grumbling a string of cuss words as a certain Spaniard laughed, poking the Italian's cheek. Feliciano was talking animatedly to Ludwig and Kiku, both who were a silent audience and only nodded occasionally.

Gilbert was extremely loud as well, though he was talking to Francis in German, and Francis was responding in French. Alfred looked rather left out. Matthew was silently eating his lunch.

Nikolaj was surrounded by idiotic people, crazy people, scary people, loud people, all kinds of people he did not want to associate himself with, ever. Well, maybe Matthew wasn't so bad. But everybody else?

Kill him, please.

He just wanted to be alone.

It took Nikolaj a few seconds to realize Vlad was trying to get his attention once again, flapping his hands wildly, a look of desparation on his face. With a long-suffering sigh, Nikolaj asked,

" _What?_ "

 _'Are you going to eat your lunch?'_ Vlad asked, cocking his head to the side once again, giving him a look like a lost puppy. Nikolaj's eye twitched slightly as he looked at the brown bag in his hand, as if he had forgotten about it. His mother still made him lunch, embarrassingly, but he rather enjoyed it.

"Yes. Now leave me alone," Nikolaj said after a while.

Vlad blinked before shrugging and turning to his own lunchbox, which had star stickers and rainbows drawn on it. Nikolaj tried not to roll his eyes, but failed. Seriously, the kid was in high school. What was with the lunch box? The Romanian opened it to reveal a vegetarian's nightmare that made Nikolaj flinch. Vlad was most definitely a carnivore.

Nikolaj's lunch contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, apple, Twinkie, and most importantly, yogurt, his absolute favorite food in the whole world. He dug in, trying to ignore the way Vlad's elbow brushed against his shoulder as the Romanian tried to speak to the others by making wild hand gestures and arm flaps, ignoring the fact that Lars seemed to be giving him a once-over, and tried to block out the sounds of laughter.

When the lunch bell rang, Nikolaj jumped to his feet, dumping his trash away hurriedly, ignoring some poor kid whom he accidentally elbowed, who was shouting angrily. He just wanted out!

"Come on, let's get going to your next class," Nikolaj said, grabbing Vlad's upper arm roughly. He was having a terrible day so far, and the oncoming headache from the noise of the lunch room only made everything worse. Vlad wordlessly followed him to the second-to-last period they shared together-a free period that Nikolaj used to spend in the library, studying.

"Don't hang out with them again," Nikolaj snapped as he flung open the library doors, feeling more and more irritated by the second, feeling as if one of them was about to follow him, "I don't like people, and if I have to be your translator most of the day, it's not going to be spent with them. Okay?"

Vlad rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, glowering slightly at Nikolaj, before raising a hand to sign.

_'But they're fun! Much more fun than you!'_

"I am the killjoy. I told you. Get over it." Nikolaj snapped, hauling his binder, backpack, and cello to his usual study spot.

Vlad pouted again and begrudgingly followed Nikolaj to a table near the back of the library. The Bulgarian sat down with a sigh and pulled out his study chart for chemistry, glancing it over, and making a few corrections here and there. He looked at Vlad's schedule while he was at it, as well.

"Your next class is French, with me, right? Did you choose French or-?"

_'I chose French.'_

"Why even bother taking it if you can't speak it?" Nikolaj questioned, wondering what use that would be.

Vlad stared at the table, pondering the question, before giving a small shrug and smiling.

_'Because it would be fun.'_

Nikolaj rolled his eyes.

Yes indeed, it was a long day.

Vlad watched Nikolaj go over his flower chart before extracting work of his own, homework assigned by Ms. Karpusi. They worked in silence, Nikolaj ignoring every kid who came up to the table to ask something, and Vlad forced to as well, seeing as he couldn't speak. When the bell rang, they grabbed their stuff and went to their final period shared together.

French was the most difficult of all. Their French teacher liked to ask tons of questions, and a lot of them were directed towards Vlad. But here's the thing-she wanted her answers in French. And Vlad's French was horrible. So Nikolaj was stuck trying to decipher what Vlad was spelling out in French for him.

And he had to sit next to both Vlad and Antonio, whom was loud and bubbly and excited and happy and oh god, please kill him.

When that long, damning period was over, Nikolaj gratefully rushed off to his advanced Math class while Vlad was accompanied by Heracles Karpusi to on-level Math. Heracles was one of the few students who could use sign language as well, which is why Vlad was assigned this class with him.

Nikolaj sighed as he sank into his seat in his Math class, burying his head in his arms, trying not to sob from this whole ordeal. He'd socialized more than he ever had in his life, and he had felt like all the attention was trained on him as he was forced to translate Vlad's words.

He hated this job.

* * *

 

Vlad was having a fantastic day, thank you very much.

Nearly everyone he met was super friendly, and he quite enjoyed their company, even if he didn't talk. And Nikolaj was awesome, a funny guy-if a bit standoffish, he was still a good guy, Vlad could tell, and he was usually right about these kind of things.

He liked Heracles too. Though the Greek slept through most of the class and was only awake long enough to tell everyone what his name was, he rather found the Greek calming. Soothing. Like there was an aura around him that made everybody feel sleepy as well. In fact, Vlad almost found himself dozing off in Math, and he loved Math! All those numbers and equations fascinated him. Vlad was enjoying his time in silence as he easily figured out his algebra problems.

But when the bell rang, Vlad realized he had no idea what his next class was or if there would be anybody there to help him. But thankfully, his question was answered when a voice shouted "HEY! NEW KID!" and a taller kid with glasses rushed over, grinning wildly.

"Duuuude! New kid! I have my next class with you and I'm supposed to tell them what you say 'n stuff!" The jock shouted., standing at least a whole six inches above him. At least, Vlad assumed he was jock, as he was a bit muscular. Vlad nodded silently when the jock suddenly snatched his wrist and started dragging him through the hallways before reaching their Astronomy classroom, talking the whole way. Which Vlad didn;t mind. 

However, blocking the door, was an even taller, buffer student, looking intimidating and downright scary. He had pale, snowy blond hair and violet-colored eyes, a pink scarf wrapped around his neck. Just looking up at him made Vlad fear him slightly.

"Hello, Fredka," The student said, voice heavy with a Russian accent. Vlad instinctively felt bad memories strike him, and he pressed unknowingly behind 'Fredka' feeling his heartbeat speed up. Bad memories, bad memories with Russians...

"Just showing the new kid around," 'Fredka' said, suddenly sounding a lot less happier than before and more angry, "And it's Alfred, not stupid friggin' Fredka."

The taller student's lip curved slightly before stepping aside and allowing them through, muttering something in thick Russian.

 _'What was that?'_ Vlad signed, looking curious. Alfred sighed, suddenly looking very, very tired. He adjusted his glasses slightly before speaking.

"That's Ivan. He and I are competing for top of the class-we're the best in here. But we're tryna prove who's better!" Alfred pointed his thumb at his chest, "But I'm gonna win, because duh, Imma hero!"

The two sat next to each other throughout the whole period, Alfred excitedly telling Vlad interesting facts about the stars and constellations.

Vlad decided he liked Alfred.

His final period of the day was art, and he was accompanied, this time, by a small Japanese boy named Kiku Honda. Kiku was nervous and stuttered slightly every now and then when asked a direct question, but he was mostly quiet. Vlad found it a bit boring, really, but he decided Kiku wasn't too bad. He just needed to stop being so nervous around new people!

Art was, Vlad had to say, his favorite class. Maybe it was because he was such an excellent drawer, but he always found this class so enjoyable-that, and there was hardly any speaking that needed to be done. Just him, a pencil, and a piece of paper.

By the end of the day, Vlad was sure he had made at least five friends, which was his goal completed.

The Romanian looked around eagerly as he stepped out of his art class, hoping to catch sign of a certain Bulgarian before he left, but didn't see him in the bustling hallways anywhere, so he sighed, and left the school, wondering if perhaps Nikolaj stayed after school for an extra curricular activity. 

Vlad liked the others, he thought, but so far, he liked Nikolaj best.


	3. Frustration

When Nikolaj got home, Milena was baking a cake. He could smell the sweet chocolatey goodness all the way from the front door. Setting his cello down near said door with a huff, he shrugged off his jacket sourly, fed up with being Vlad’s translator already. Vlad had dragged him around all day, the second day of being his godforsaken translator, wanting to talk to people who couldn’t even understand sign language, so obviously he needed Nikolaj  _ there _ , to talk to an  _ actual person _ whom he didn’t even _ know _ .

Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t the principal  give everyone a goddamn lesson in sign language, or make Vlad could carry a white board and marker around. Wouldn’t that be a hell of alot easier than Vlad having to share most of his schedule so someone could be there only to translate his words?

“You sound angry,” Milena’s voice sounded from the kitchen, interrupting his irritated train of thought.

“I haven’t even said anything,” Nikolaj snapped, tossing his binder and bookbag onto the couch angrily with much more force than necessary. Ugh, stupid stupid stupid Vlad. Stupid mutism, stupid everything. 

Milena waltzed into the room, obviously sensing something was wrong. Nikolaj was tall, but Milena was taller, and much more graceful than the awkward teen.

“I can tell when my son is angry.” She placed her hands on his cheeks, pressing them together so his lips puffed up like a fish’s, staring into his green eyes, “What’s bothering you?”

“The new kid,” Nikolaj answered, voice sounding a bit strange due to his fish lips. Milena blinked before smiling, shaking her head.

“Oh, honey. You’ve got to give him a chance!” She said enthusiastically, ever the optimist despite her son’s pessimistic attitude.

“But he’s _ annoying _ ,” Nikolaj complained, crossing his arms and pulling away from his mother. He had had a terrible day, forced to converse with  _ people _ . Lunch had been the worse, with even  _ more _ people. Nikolaj didn’t have time for people--all he wanted to do was study so he could ace into Juilliard, the best music school, the one his father had attended.

“It’s only been two days, Nikolaj,” Milena sighed, but said nothing else as Nikolaj stomped away, intent on practicing the cello. Play his instrument and get lost in the music. Finger the strings lightly, slide the bow across them and let his body hum with the sound. Others got lost in reading and watching TV. Nikolaj got lost in playing.

The week passed, and so did the weekend, spent in frustration as Vlad seemed so goddamn eager to meet everyone in the school. Came Monday again, and Nikolaj was already dreading the day, dragging himself out of bed and showering with tired, jerky movements. He’d contemplated all the ways Vlad could communicate without needing him the night before, and had planned to share his reasons with the principal, but had fallen asleep late, late at night, and now he didn’t feel like doing anything.

_ ‘Good morning _ ,’ Vlad signed enthusiastically, ‘ _ My favorite person ever looks great today.’ _

“Can it, Popescu,” Nikolaj mumbled as they both walked to first period together, “I don’t feel like dealing with this today.”

Vlad let two of his fingers jump out from behind his other hand, which translated to jack in the box, and Nikolaj had no idea what that even meant.

“Jack in the box? What?”

_ ‘I had Jack In The Box. Stomach feels not so good,’  _ Vlad shook his head, face saddening a bit, _ ‘Nurse?’ _

“If you want to go to the nurse, you can walk yourself,” Nikolaj said. Vlad stuck up a certain finger that was nationally accepted as a ‘fuck you.’

“Save it,” Nikolaj groaned, and they entered the classroom together, as Ms. Karpusi was handing out quizzes at the door. Nikolaj sat down in his seat and bent over his paper, but a tapping on the shoulder made him look up.

‘ _ Why is he staring at you? _ ’ Vlad signed, before pointing over his shoulder. Nikolaj turned to see Ivan Braginsky eyeing him. 

“Uh...Hi,” Nikolaj said in a flat voice. Ivan’s eyes flickered away.

“Yeah, that’s just Ivan,” Nikolaj muttered, but Vlad wasn’t paying attention--he was already tearing up wads of paper for spitballs. At least, Nikolaj  _ hoped  _ those were for spitballs. He couldn’t think of another way they would be used, but if Vlad did know a different way to use paper wads for entertainment, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

* * *

Vlad still wonders what his voice would sound like now. Would it be scratchy and faint? Or just the same as before? Higher pitched or lower pitched? Would his accent have changed?

He often laid awake at night ( _ unwillingly _ , he liked to sleep) thinking about his own voice. When was the last time he had heard it? He didn’t like to listen to recordings or videos of himself if he was speaking, and often he opened his mouth as if to express himself with words, but couldn’t figure out how.

Vlad thinks he’s forgotten how to speak.

But he certainly hasn’t forgotten how to express himself, so when he looks excitedly towards the lunchroom during lunch period, and sees Nikolaj’s eyes darken in despair, lips pursing into a scowl, he gives an (internal) sigh and stalks towards the direction of the library because from what he’s gathered, Nikolaj is kinda anti social.

“You smell like cheese,” Nikolaj said as Vlad pushed open the door, which Vlad took as Nikolaj’s own special way of saying ‘ _ thanks I love you so much _ .’

And also, because Vlad is a special snowflake and he likes fucking with people who speak(?) sign language, he signed with his hands,

_ ‘Washing machine.’ _

A brief look of confusion crossed Nikolaj’s face before he rolled his eyes and together, they walked towards the back of the library with their lunch bags (in Vlad’s case, lunch box) in hand.

_ ‘I thought eating in a library is against the rules?’  _ Vlad signed towards Nikolaj as they sat down.

“I thought having dyed hair was against the rules.”

_ ‘My hair is natural, thank you very much.’ _

Nikolaj rolled his eyes once again, and they both opened their lunches and began eating.

Vlad kept his eyes on Nikolaj, observing him as he ate.

Vlad used to talk a lot, and therefore he missed out on many things--other people’s actions, quirks, words. He was always so loud and immersed in what he himself was saying that he didn’t pay attention to those around him.

But now he studied Nikolaj, because right now Vlad thought that though Nikolaj acted like Vlad was an annoyance, maybe Nikolaj secretly liked him or something. And Vlad was interested to know more about Nikolaj, besides ‘he doesn’t like people but he really likes yogurt.’

Nikolaj focused on his food when he ate but every now and then he’d glance up. At nothing in particular--usually when he glanced up, his eyes were a little unfocused. He ate everything in alphabetical order (or maybe he just happened to do so today, Vlad couldn’t tell) and he seemed a little more relaxed now than he did yesterday at lunch or in a classroom.

But this wasn’t enough to  _ really _ know Nikolaj.

So Vlad tore a piece of paper from his binder (it was a lot easier to communicate with writing, because a lot of the time sign language could only go so far or be interpreted too literally) and began writing on it. At first, it started as a ‘hey since we’re going to be together all year do you mind telling me who you are’ but it soon fanned out into something a bit deeper.

_ Hi, this is Vlad. Of course it is. I’m sitting right next to you. Ha. Or am I????? Who knows I certainly don’t.  _

_ So it’s come to my attention I literally don’t know anything about you (except you like yogurt like a lot. Don’t deny it I see all the yogurt containers in your backpack you sick weirdo) and I just kinda want to know who you are because….We’re going to be together all year! :D _

_ I haven’t had a friend in a really long time, ever since I stopped speaking, but I’d like to get to know you. (Mostly because we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other :P) _

_ So if you please, tell me a bit about yourself and I’ll tell you about me! _

_ And here’s my phone number! _

When he finished writing it, he slid it quietly over towards Nikolaj, who frowned slightly at it and took it in his hands, eyes scanning the paper. Vlad half expected him to crumple it up and toss it away, but to his surprise, Nikolaj gave a long-suffering sigh, took the pen from Vlad’s hand, and began jotting down an answer.

Vlad returned to eating his food, grinning like the little shit he was, because oh yeah Nikolaj totally liked him, no matter how much he pretended to dislike him.

It was only the second week of being here and he’d already made a friend, who was okay with him, then didn’t like him, then will maybe be okay with him again.

Or maybe not really.

Now Vlad’s head hurt because he was overthinking things.

This is why he tried not to think about things.

His train of thought was interrupted when Nikolaj slid him the paper back, and to Vlad’s great surprise and delight, he’d actually answered, with real, legitimate answers and not a single ‘fuck off.’

_ Hello Vlad, I am Nikolaj, which you already know, because I’ve been forced to become your translating slave.  _

_ Let’s not get too personal here, so here’s just a few basic things-- _

_ I play the cello, I love my mom because she’s the best person in the world, I want to go to Juilliard or a med school, I like reading Stephen King novels, I either want to be a musician or a doctor, I’m from Bulgaria and my favorite food is yogurt but I also really like chocolate and brownies. _

_ I need to work hard to work towards my university goals, so please try not to get in my way or interfere with doing so. _

_ \--Nikolaj _

_ (Here’s my number, too) _

Beneath his signature was a scrawled number, and it took Vlad a moment to decipher his two’s from his five’s, but he eventually grinned.

Vlad looked up at Nikolaj, who was staring at him expectantly. He was probably expecting a really intelligent response or something, but since Vlad was Vlad and was actually really awkward with conversation, and he was still sorta hungry, he signed the stupidest thing, ever--

‘ _ Can I have your yogurt? _ ’ 

Surprisingly, Nikolaj nodded his head. Vlad reached over eagerly, but Nikolaj swiped the yogurt away from him, looking scandalized.

“I told you no!” He said, and Vlad was very confused for a second, but he didn’t have time to ask, ‘What?’ because now the librarian was screeching at them for bringing food in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look an update
> 
> That last bit is based on the very true fact that Bulgarians shake their head yes or nod their heads no. It can get very confusing some times.
> 
> I’m sorry for not updating in a long time. I lost the outline I’d written for this story and with it, my motivation. But it’s back! :D (not the outline, tho. That’s still lost and I’m still silently weeping about it.)


End file.
